


Flight Feathers

by sawbones



Series: birds of a feather [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Fix-It Fic Except Everything Is Still Pretty Terrible In New and Exciting Ways, Identity Issues, Kylo Steals Phasma's Civilian Clothes So He Can Go On Vacation (If That Turns You On), M/M, Serious Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7982770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawbones/pseuds/sawbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How much of him is you?” Mitaka asked, his expression hardening, clearly fighting to keep the tremor from his voice, “How much of this was lies?”<br/>--</p><p>Alternative ending to Sparrowheart, ie what might have happened if Mitaka didn't check the personnel files.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of self-indulgent fun for one of my favourite rarepairs. You need to read Sparrowheart to know what's going on. This doesn't replace the original ending. Shout out to beta reader and part-time cheerleader [blithesea](blithesea.tumblr.com).

As soon as their boots were back on deck, Kylo made a break for Mitaka’s room, taking a detour to his own quarters only to change into Matt—perhaps for the last time. As eager as he was to see him, Kylo Ren showing up at his door in the middle of the off-cycle would probably give the poor Lieutenant a heart-attack. He forwent ringing the entrance alarm and instead quickly keyed in the entrance code, hoping to surprise Mitaka who was almost surely asleep.

However, it was Kylo who got the surprise when the door opened to reveal Mitaka sitting at his dejarik table with two cups of caf before him. He looked exhausted but the smile that lit up his face was pure radiance, and Kylo couldn’t help smiling in response, his plan to confess momentarily forgotten.

“What are you doing?” he asked, taking a seat beside Mitaka. With the lights at quarter strength, it was dark and quiet, and Kylo felt the need to whisper even though it was just the two of them, “You should be sleeping.”

“I should be, but I don’t think I even could. I pulled in some favours to be informed when the u-class was approaching, and I had a feeling you would come here eventually,” Mitaka said. He was still smiling up at him, and took one of his hands between his own; he petted it awkwardly, and Kylo was immediately charmed all over again. He could sense Mitaka’s concern, a thousand little questions chirping behind closed lips.

“I missed you,” Kylo said like it had been pulled out of him on a piece of string. Not the confession he had come to make, but a confession nonetheless. Mitaka wanted more, he could feel the aching, sucking need for everything that Matt had taken away with him, but he wouldn’t lie and say he thought about him every day, or spent each night longing to be back with him. He had missed him in the quiet empty spaces between moving, hunting, hurting. 

Mitaka kissed him, uncertainly at first but then like he was trying to fuse them together, his own way of saying ‘I missed you too’ when it was still too much to say it out loud. Mitaka had thought about him every day, had longed endlessly to be back with him. He pushed his want at Matt as though he was trying to give it away, a great chestful of it that had been there since long before their last night together, and had grown to the point Mitaka felt like he could barely breathe. The sensation brought to mind how it felt to be half-crushed under Matt, and Kylo had to break the kiss before they both got carried away.

“I have something to tell you,” he said, and he wasn’t sure what tone of voice to use. He paused, swallowed, and the Lieutenant took the momentary hesitation as a chance to interrupt. Kylo let him; he was vibrating between excited and nervous, it was too distracting. 

“Actually, so do I. Well, something to ask you rather than tell you,” Mitaka said, “I have some planetary leave coming up soon, and I was going to see if I could move some things around so we could take it together. I wanted to surprise you with it on your return, but I realised at the last moment that perhaps I was getting ahead of myself.”

Kylo wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t an invitation to go on holiday together. He’d never been on a pleasure trip before, not even as a child. Somehow he struggled to imagine either of them lying on a beach, or looking at ruins together, or whatever else grown men did on vacation. It wasn’t something he was opposed to - in fact, he liked the idea of it. He could have Mitaka, all of Mitaka, for days without being pried apart by duty or shift rotations.

“I suppose I was,” Mitaka said, turning his head away. He was still holding onto Kylo’s hand but his grip had slackened.

“What?” Kylo blinked at him behind Matt’s glasses.

“Getting ahead of myself, I mean.”

It took Kylo a moment to realise Mitaka had read his silence as rejection. Not articulating his thoughts was a bad habit he fell into when he’d spent a lot of time with his Knights, especially when he was so tired. He ran his free hand over his face and attempted an apologetic smile, “No, sorry-- I’m just tired. I approve. It would be nice to be alone together.”

“I’ll make the arrangements if you sort out your shore leave. I think we could both use a break,” Mitaka agreed, “Ah, you had something to tell me--?”

Kylo’s tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He had tried to convince himself it would be of so little consequence to come clean and just deal with it, that it was kinder for both of them, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He saw Mitaka’s face, felt the hope in him, and he wanted more. He wanted that promised time together incase it was the last. 

“I was hurt on the mission,” Kylo said, and held his hand up to silence Mitaka when the Lieutenant tried to interrupt him again, “Not seriously, I am fine, but I know you would see it eventually and panic.”

It wasn’t a lie. He could reassure himself with that much. Mitaka looked pale but he bit down on the babbling concerns he wanted to spill everywhere like caf on the dejarik board the first night Matt had visited, “I wish that beast had never taken you.”

“Not a beast. Just a man,” Kylo said, because he couldn’t help himself. It should have stung, but it didn’t. He mostly just wanted to kiss him again, so he did, and it felt like sealing a contract Mitaka didn’t know he had written. That ‘beast’ had taken him, and that ‘beast’ brought him back. Surely he couldn’t be so bad? If Mitaka thought so, his thoughts were swallowed up by Matt’s lips, because that was all Kylo could hear. 

“You should sleep. You’re tired,” Kylo said, and it was true for both of them. Mitaka nodded, his eyes closed and his hands braced on Kylo’s chest like he was ready to push him away. He didn’t, of course, and Kylo felt the softest tug at his jumpsuit as he stood up to leave. He brushed his knuckle across the Lieutenant’s cheek, felt heat in his throat as he leaned into the touch, “You won’t see me at lunch, but I’ll be back tomorrow night. You won’t have long to wait.”

\--

The only First Order sanctioned destination for recreational planetary leave within ten parsecs of the Finalizer’s current position was a dwarf planet by the name of Jurong. It was a water planet, entirely engulfed by a single ocean save for a tiny hub-like island at its north pole. The only settlement was the pleasure resort Seco, known also as the Sunset City because of the planet’s single unique appeal: the fact Jurong orbited a red dwarf sun kept it tidally locked, and the particular position of Seco meant that there was no discernible night cycle. The sun grazed the horizon without ever actually dipping below it, rising and falling as though caught on gentle waves, painting the world in the beautiful and vivid pink-orange streaks of perpetual sunset.

Of course, this phenomenon meant that the island on which Seco sat was little more than a sun-scorched rock in the middle of an untouchable caustic sea, soaked in solar radiation and incapable of supporting life beyond a microscopic scale. The city itself was protected by a biodome but even then First Order protocol permitted a maximum stay of twelve days without additional precautions taken. 

This seemed to do little to deter visitors. Mitaka had informed him, with a sort of sheepish enthusiasm, that the resort was a popular honeymoon destination. He had then immediately locked himself in the refresher for twenty minutes, presumably in the hopes Kylo would forget he had said anything at all.

In all honesty, even knowing this, Kylo couldn’t suppress the small bubble of giddiness that rose up in him as they had boarded the surface-bound shuttle. At first he thought he was ill, but then he realised that no - he was just excited, perhaps for the first time in years. Mitaka’s hand in his when the shuttle took off was like a homing beacon, a feeling brighter than the red sun, and he smiled and smiled and smiled all the way to the surface.

\--

Kylo leaned against the balcony railing and squinted out across the endless ruddy waters of the Jurong ocean. The waves were restless and white-crested, but behind the biodome he couldn’t feel the wind that stirred them, only a cool recycled breeze. He didn’t turn around at the sound of the door sliding open and closed behind him.

“What do you think?” Mitaka asked, slipping comfortably into the space by Kylo’s elbow. He had been unpacking, apparently horrified at the prospect of living out of a suitcase for a few days as Kylo had intended, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Kylo didn’t like it at all. Seco was mostly constructed of blocky white concrete buildings, littered here and there with artificial plants for colour. The overwhelming majority of visitors and residents seemed to be various reptilian species, and the city reflected that in everything from the food to the lack of shade. The primary - and indeed only - source of entertainment appeared to be drinking to excess in gambling dens, if the short walk from the shuttle-port to the hotel was anything to go by. He glanced at Mitaka who was smiling up at him expectantly, “It’s warm.”

Mitaka laughed and took him by the wrist, tugging him towards the door, “Come on, it’s a little cooler inside.”

Kylo allowed himself to be gently wrangled back into the room and pulled under the ancient air conditioning. The waves of cold air felt good on the back of his neck - nearly as good as Mitaka’s hands roaming his stomach, his chest. Kylo had been forced to pilfer some civilian clothes from the laundry droids - most of which was probably Phasma’s - and the soft, worn t-shirt he had on was too tight on him, much to the Lieutenant’s great delight. He methodically fondled his way across his pecs, his lips pursed almost comically in concentration.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, leaning into the touch. He could certainly guess what Mitaka had in mind: he was broadcasting very clearly that he wanted Matt to pick him up and throw him on the bed. 

“We should-- food. Get food, I mean. Since we missed lunch,” Mitaka said, barely able to drag his gaze up to Kylo’s face, “I don’t think I’ve got enough credits for room service.”

Theoretically, Kylo had access to more credits than the average person could spend in their lifetime. In practice, the difficulty lay in trying to explain to the Supreme Leader - or more likely Hux, who would absolutely notice and jump at the chance to make life for Kylo slightly more difficult over something so minor - why funds were being misspent on over-priced food at a low-end pleasure resort hotel. He wouldn’t ordinarily care, but decided to be cautious since by all accounts, Kylo Ren was still aboard the Finalizer and the only First Order operative registered at that hotel would be a certain Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka.

“Food would be acceptable,” he agreed, though the heat had mostly robbed him of his appetite. He couldn’t tell if Mitaka was actually hungry or if it was just the first idea for something to do - there was so much want that it was hard to discern what for. 

\--

They attracted more attention than Kylo really cared for out in the street, whether from being the only humans around, or because Mitaka insisted on wearing a very large sun hat that looked especially ridiculous when paired with his long-sleeved, fully buttoned shirt, and actually did very little to protect from the low sun. Lidless eyes watched closely as they passed by, and forked tongues flicked out to taste their scent. Kylo was reminded that right at the root of their ancestral trees, soft little mammals made easy prey for sharp-toothed reptiles. He walked with his arm protectively around Mitaka’s shoulders, and the Lieutenant remained happily oblivious, simply enjoying what he thought was a shameless display of affection.

They walked until Mitaka’s cheeks began to pinken under the brim of his hat, which was about fifteen minutes after setting off. Kylo ushered them into the nearest likely looking cantina where they took a table at the back, as far away from the band as possible. The music was a strange rhythmic low vibration played on bizarre floor-facing stringed instruments that Kylo felt more than he heard. It made his teeth ache and his ears feel strange, but the scaley patrons seemed to be enjoying it immensely, and Mitaka said nothing to it either way. 

They ordered the only things off the menu they could half pronounce, which turned out to be a salad of some sort made from bitter flower petals, a bowl of what appeared to be fried crickets, and a bottle of something that smelled like it could have melted durasteel.

“What do you suppose these are?” Mitaka asked, picking up a cricket with his fingers and inspecting it closely, “Are they nice?”

“Don’t know,” Kylo said, sitting down his glass. It was smoking slightly, and his tongue was numb, “Can’t taste anything.”

Mitaka took a bite and chewed slowly. His face went from curious to an expression of carefully engineered neutrality. He swallowed, and held out his glass to Kylo, “Please.”

Kylo was happy to fill both their cups, but quickly came to realise how strong the liquor was. After only two glasses he could feel the creeping heat of it in his cheeks, his chest, the back of his neck, and Mitaka’s ears had gone pink to match his cheeks. Kylo put the cork back in the bottle when he realised he was half-seriously considering running his tongue around the shell of one right there and then. They weren’t close to drunk, barely even tipsy at most, but Mitaka seemed to agree or at least not to notice; he had moved to Kylo’s side of the the table and was quietly but intently kneading his thigh. Kylo took a gentle hold of his wrist, causing Mitaka to look up, bottom lip caught between teeth. 

“I’ve had enough. This place isn’t for us. We’re going back to the hotel,” he said. Mitaka nodded, stuffing on his hat and taking Kylo’s hand when it was offered to him.

\--

If they were watched on the way back to the hotel as they were on the way to the cantina, Kylo did not notice, nor did he particularly care. They walked at a less leisurely pace too, with Mitaka nearly having to jog to keep up with him. It was a little darker outside, minutely cooler with the fat red sun already coming to the end of its short cycle, half way below the shimmering horizon and going no further. Crimson soaked into every sun-baked surface, and Kylo was no sorry to shut it out as they slipped inside.

They were both glad for the relative coolness of their room, but there was no lack of heat in the kiss Mitaka dragged them into as soon as the door closed behind them. There was little of the hesitation he had felt the last time they had been together, only hunger - not the sort of hunger Kylo knew, the one with teeth and claws and a blaster pressed to the base of his skull, driving him further, deeper. This was brighter, lighter, practically effervescent as it fizzed through Mitaka from head to toe. He was happy.

“I’ve wanted this for, oh--” Mitaka began, his words unsteady, nearly shy even as he pulled at the hem of Kylo’s shirt, coaxing it off, “For so long. Since I met you, really, and the night you left-- I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Thinking about you, about all of this.”

He ran his hands across Kylo’s broad chest, down over his stomach. Kylo loved the way his eyes went wide when he grabbed him by the waist and ground against him, “You could have had all of this. You just had to ask. Why didn’t you?”

Mitaka’s boldness struggled to bear the combined weight of Kylo’s body and blunt scrutiny. He tugged lamely at Kylo’s belt as though he hoped to avoid the question and continue along more appealing routes, but Kylo could feel his answer pressing against the inside of his throat.

“I wanted to wait for the right moment. Our first time couldn’t be on that ship, I hate-- I wanted it to be really ours, not the Order’s. I wanted it to be perfect,” Mitaka said. He paused, blinked, turned his head away. His embarrassment was fine-boned and metallic, “Stars, when I hear myself say it out loud.”

Kylo didn’t say anything. Perhaps it was overly sentimental, but he couldn’t forget the shape of Mitaka’s almost-maybe-love in his mind, and he knew the Lieutenant doubted that feeling less and less every passing minute. The memory put a sharp needle of guilt through his chest, and he realised that he couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. It belonged to Matt, this bubbling, burgeoning affection. It wasn’t his to taste. He didn’t know how to handle it or if he even could, if he needed it, if he deserved it. His silence pressed on until it was bruising, and wounded, Mitaka pulled away. Kylo let him go.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, that was too much, wasn’t it,” the Lieutenant said. He tried to laugh, and it hurt to see him shrink into himself, but Kylo didn’t reach out for him, “Perhaps I should have stopped at one glass, it was stronger than I anticipated.”

“I am not who you think I am,” Kylo said abruptly. It was the only thing he could think to say. He should have said it weeks ago, perhaps months.

Mitaka looked at him as though he wasn’t sure he had heard him right, “Pardon?”

“My name’s not Matt. I’m not a radar technician,” he went on, “I lied to you, Dop. I wanted to be your friend, so I lied.”

“I’m not sure I follow. Who are you supposed to be?” Mitaka asked. He thought Matt was joking; Matt often said odd things, jarring things, and it was part of his charm, but wasn’t it a funny time to start now? Perhaps he was trying to change the subject. Perhaps he was trying to diffuse the awkwardness. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps; Mitaka’s mind was starting to fill up, to run over. It was too loud in their quiet room, and Kylo wanted to tell him to shut up.

“I am Kylo Ren,” he said. 

“And I-- I am the young Lieutenant you have caught slacking off in the rec room, who would do anything if you please don’t tell the General,” Mitaka said, somewhat hopeful this was just a sex thing because he didn’t know what to do if it wasn’t (he didn’t know what to do if it was either, but at least he could try). He hadn’t noticed, but he had taken a half step away from Kylo. Kylo noticed, “Or I could be the General, if that’s what you want. Right?”

“I am Kylo Ren.”

Kylo raised his hand and the no that fell from Mitaka’s lips was so soft it was felt rather than heard, but Kylo wasn’t going to hurt him. He could never, would never, not physically, not unless he had to - and why would he ever have to? Snoke would never know about this, about his weakness, about the bumbling obtuse radar technician and his young nervous Lieutenant. 

The top button of Mitaka’s shirt was undone by unseen hands, then the second, invisible fingers ghosting across his pale throat. His lips parted in creeping horror, and after a moment for the realisation to sink in, he snatched the fabric closed again and made a panicked break for the refresher. The door slammed shut and the lock slid into place, as though either could stop Kylo if he wanted to get in.

Did he want to get in? No, not particularly. Not through force, or Force. He wanted Mitaka to come out, and of his own free will. Kylo approached the door and tried to make his presence as small as possible. He put his hands on it, let his forehead rest against the cool surface. He wanted to reach through it and into Mitaka’s head to pluck out all the things to say to make it better, but he didn’t think those words existed, and Mitaka’s mental barrier of please leave me alone was more effective than most.

“Dop. Dopheld,” he called softly. Each name had a different weight to it, its own shape, its own meaning. None of them made it through the barrier, “Lieutenant Mitaka?”

Nothing. More silence. The entire room felt like a bruise, and Kylo couldn’t stop pressing on it. He knew he should contact a shuttle to come and collect him, and that for all intents and purposes they were finished on Jurong, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to. They could talk around it, he could explain and Mitaka - sweet, soft, ordinary Mitaka would get it. 

He wasn’t Matt any more, but Mitaka was still Mitaka, and Mitaka understood him.

He wasn’t Matt any more, he was Kylo Ren, and nothing in the galaxy could stop him from getting what he wanted.

The thoughts - opposing, yet so much the same - pressed against each other with enough friction that the door started vibrating under his fingertips, and he had to let go before he frightened Mitaka even more. He turned away and crossed the room to add a little distance. He took off Matt’s ratty wig and ugly glasses, and as an afterthought, put his shirt back on too.

Kylo wandered out to the balcony and leaned against the railing, closing his eyes against the borderline-harsh red sun. It was still too hot, and even the breeze felt like warm breath brushing against the back of his neck, so he turned and sat with his back to the railing so he would be slightly better shaded. Kylo sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face like he could wipe away some of the static fatigue that seemed to cling to him. 

He had known coming clean would change everything, or even ruin it all entirely. He hadn’t expected it to hurt. He wanted to rage against it, to burn it away and step over the ashes like everything else that had ever came close to touching the softest parts of himself, the loneliness, the child, the heart; little bits and pieces he hadn’t been quick enough to excise or harden during his training with Snoke.

There was still time for that.

The door to the refresher opened, and Mitaka slowly approached the balcony the way someone might approach a ticking bomb or a dangerous dog - but underneath the fear there was anger, indignation. He lingered in the room, building himself up, trying to think of what to say and how to say it. Kylo didn’t interfere.

“Why? Why did you do it?”

The expected question. He should have been better prepared for it. He could just say “because I wanted to” and be done with it all. “Because I could.” “Because I was bored.”

Not true, but easier. Infinitely easier.

“Did you know,” he began, then stopped. Swallowed. It was bright outside and dark in the room, and he couldn’t see Mitaka’s face, so he looked away instead, “Did you know that when you gave me that wrench back, and asked if I was alright, it was the first nice thing someone did for me since I was fourteen. Fifteen.”

There was no response, for which Kylo was grateful.

“I didn’t realise it at the time, I had forgotten what it was like. I thought you wanted something. That’s why people do things for me, you understand. They want something, or they’re scared of me, or they want to curry favor,” Kylo said. This all felt very dangerous, “You did want something, I suppose, but it was just me. You wanted me. You wanted to be my friend. I shouldn’t have let it happen but it was so nice. You were so nice.”

“But you could have anyone and anything. You’re-- you.”

“I am...one of the last Force users still alive, apprentice to the the most powerful being in the Galaxy. I am a co-commander of the First Order. I have power and authority most men can only dream of. Do you know what else I have?” Kylo asked, “A favourite colour. Nightmares. A side of the bed I like most. A real heart that beats with real blood. You are the only person to see that since I was a child, Dop. How could I let that go.”

Mitaka came a little closer until he was standing in the doorway, his hand on the frame. His uncertainty was palpable; his fear had receded minimally, but he was still on the back foot, wondering if it was all some sort of trick. 

“They don’t know what it’s like out here,” he said softly, remembering what he said the first night they had kissed, strong enough that Kylo could see it too, “They don’t know how lonely it can be.”

“You know what it’s like. We both do,” Kylo urged, gently pushing harder on the memory. He had said then he was afraid, but not of him - if he could just hold on to that feeling, if he could remember. Mitaka wanted to give into it, wanted to be swayed softly into forgiveness. He almost let it happen before he recoiled, pulling back sharply. 

“How much of him is you?” Mitaka asked, his expression hardening, clearly fighting to keep the tremor from his voice, “How much of this was lies?”

He thought about it for a moment, “I lied about the milk.”

Mitaka looked as though he was about to crack up, “Excuse me?”

“The first time we had lunch together I said I liked milk, but I don’t,” he said, “I don’t really know anything about radar technology either.”

Kylo felt Mitaka’s anger surge, and it was only the fear of the consequences of disrespecting Kylo Ren that stopped him from snapping. He thought Kylo was mocking him. He didn’t mean it like that at all, and as far as he knew it was mostly accurate. He’d been deliberately obtuse about personal details for that very reason.

Neither said anything for several long minutes. Kylo was wondering if saying sorry would be worth it, and Mitaka-- well, he didn’t know what Mitaka was wondering, because he had gone very quiet. 

“Mitaka--” Kylo said, and the Lieutenant interrupted him with a wince and a wave of his hand.

“Don’t,” he said, “Please just. Don’t.”

Even as he said it, he came out a little further onto the balcony. He sat down next to Kylo, roughly an arm’s length away, and nervously rubbed his knees. If the frustration in his feedback was anything to go by, he was as stumped for things to say as Kylo was.

“The black suits you better,” he admitted eventually. Kylo looked at him, brow raised, “The hair, I mean. It’s better than the blond wig.”

“You never said anything about it,” Kylo said.

“Well that’s hardly relevant now, is it?” Mitaka said, perhaps with a little more acid than he meant. He pressed his tongue to his teeth and gave a half-shrug, “I don’t know. I just thought maybe you didn’t like your real hair. We all have things we don’t like about ourselves. It was-- cute, I suppose.”

Kylo bowed his head and smiled softly at the idea Mitaka had found him cute, even if he already had some idea of that. He looked back up at him, turned towards him. 

“Is this still something you want?” he asked, and dared to sound bold. On a whim, he reached for Mitaka’s hand.

Mitaka pulled away.

“I-- I don’t know,” he said. The desire was still there, but Kylo could feel none of the implicit trust, “I would need time. Lots of time. And then there’s the Finalizer, how could we hide it, the fraternisation rules--”

“Technically, I’m not a crew member,” Kylo said, “Matt was. You didn’t seem to mind.”

“That’s not helping you,” Mitaka hissed, a flush rising in his cheeks that lifted Kylo’s spirits along with it, “I need to think about it more. I hope you understand.”

Kylo gave a single nod. He understood. 

He understood, and he hoped.


End file.
